Page 48 of The Lord Meets His Lady

“He’s not as big as Mr. Beckworth’s horse,” she said, petting Khan’s neck.

“Big doesn’t mean better,” he scoffed.

“You’re telling me size doesn’t matter?”

Lord Bowles loomed in her periphery, the candlelight slanting on his sensual smirk. “Large and hulking can be…ineffective, clumsy.”

Her petting hand slowed. “Or powerful.”

He walked behind her, close enough to rustle her clothes and whisper, “If you need a basic plow job, yes.”

Her skin pebbled. She’d known her share of flirts and rough sorts, but only Lord Bowles could touch her with words. Her gaze followed him around Khan as he fixed the blanket.

“Must be I need more riding experience,” she said archly.

Hazel eyes sparked beneath a black cocked hat on the other side of Khan. “You need a superior riding experience. Agile is more responsive…better and longer lasting, in my humble opinion.”

“And all this time I thought fast horses tired quickly.”

His raspy chuckle tickled her. A pleasant thrum bounced between them. “You haven’t found the right horse.”

She laughed. With her skin flushed and nerves charged, she didn’t want their conversation to end. Playful or not, an exchange of words with his lordship renewed her.

“Khan is beautiful, but his legs are thin as spindles.”

“Shh.” Lord Bowles put a finger across his lips. “He’s quite proud of his legs.”

“As if horses have such a thing as pride.”

He unlatched the stall. “Oh, they do, Khan especially. He’s descended from the Godolphin Arabian, the finest bloodline. Believe me, he knows it.” He slapped the horse’s rump, and Khan walked into the stall. “This old boy needs his rest. He’s had a long, hard day.”

Her legs stretched back a step or two until her bottom bumped the post. “Long and hard for you too, I imagine.”

“Part of it.”

Lord Bowles shut the gate, keeping his hand on the top slat. Wind howled outside. Khan drank from a trough. Life went on, yet a curtain could have fallen between them. Khan was a pleasant distraction, as was their veiled discussion of horses and riders.

“Why did you go to Learmouth, milord?”

The black hat shaded his eyes, and for a moment, she didn’t think he’d answer. He didn’t have to.

“I needed a good, fast ride.”

“Fast horses and fast women,” she mocked, slipping both hands behind her back. “The way Mr. Beckworth said it, I guessed you were seeking a woman for sexual favors.”

“Would it matter?” he asked quietly.

The cavernous barn expanded everything. The thrum under her skin. Noises of Khan settling in. Water dripping behind her. The rain hammering overhead. Who was she but another cog in all the goings-on? She had no right to question him, yet a perverse need forced her to stay put.

“I realize it’s not my concern.”

“It isn’t.” He sauntered away from the stall. “But I’ll admit, it gets lonely, me and my hand in the bath. Not as satisfying as a woman’s touch.”

She stiffened. “Then I hope you got what you wanted.”

His crudeness didn’t shock her. She’d heard worse. Being near him tonight wasn’t the same as watching him go off with an actress two years past. What he did came at a cost, a cost she couldn’t explain, yet the sting was deep. She turned to go, but Lord Bowles closed the distance.

“Wait.” He grabbed her arm. “Don’t you want to know what happened?”